After my radio show on Friday morning, I went to CafÃ© Kino with Shereene. I probably ordered a raspberry lemonade- that tends to be my tipple of choice there. The breakfast bar stools were full so we took a couple in front of the fireplace and chatted about the show. Around us various other Venners were munching and quaffing and gassing. Kino had become a hub, a place where the vibrations of the festival brought us all together to exchange, share and inform before shaking us apart again, dispersing us amongst various gigs. Kino was a place we were contained and became if not a solid mass then at least a liquid. As well as being an important communications intersection, Kino vastly improved the diets of many Venn workers- the delicious food stoked our engines and prepared us for the next leg of our various journeys while we let off steam.
I have been waiting for Kino for years. I have always needed a cafÃ© where I can write, think, feel unhurried and generally treat like a room in my own home. A couple of establishments have approached this but never fully arrived. Kino is the place. The first time I walked in there I knew. For one thing, people I like and trust run the joint. Itâ€™s important to trust the people who are preparing your food and drink and I donâ€™t just mean from a Food Hygiene Certificate point of view. I want to trust the choice of ingredients, the preparation, the whole life of the meal from ground to gut. And with Kino I do. They make proper happy food, infusing joy to eating. And yet it isnâ€™t just the food that makes the place. The coffee is cheap which is like an open invitation and because you donâ€™t feel as if you are buying your time and seat there itâ€™s a prime place to hang out. Iâ€™m bound to see people to chat with or I can chose to hide away in the basement which is light and spacious but snug too. In fact I like the place so much I get nervous for it. I donâ€™t want to think about it not being there. I donâ€™t even like writing that sentence down. Forget I ever did.